This City
by Kritty3311
Summary: Dan finds a journal unmistakably Rorschach's. What follows is a picture of Dan's friend that he knew all to well, and nothing about. Sorry fair warning the updates may not be that quick
1. Chapter 1

**This City **

Moving day had arrived and Dan was reluctantly walking up to attic. He and Laurie were finally moving to the house by the lake they had talked about for so long, retiring from retiring so to speak. Laurie had been after him to toss out some old boxes in the attic insisting they wouldn't be going to the new house if she had her way and since she does, Dan must do something about them.

He had been putting the clean-up off for too long and today seemed as good a day as any to work on his reluctant chore. Laurie was out for the day, putting flowers on the memorial to honor everyone whose lives were lost that day everything changed but Dan suspected she was also mourning the loss of Jon as well.

He tugged at the rope attached to the trap door of the attic silently wishing the string would break so he could put the clean-up off again. But it didn't and he pulls down the door unfurls the stairs and climbs up into the stifling hot attic. Hunching over to avoid hitting his head on the overhead beams he makes his way to the back of the room where the boxes Laurie wants him to "do something with" are. He finds the boxes easily enough. Two were in surprisingly good shape after having been up here for the better part of 20 years. One had broken apart slit open like a piñata. Its paper contents oozing onto the floor looking to escape the confines of their cardboard prison, Dan decides to tackle this box first.

He sits on the floor with the box between his legs and starts to pick through the papers. Most are old news clippings of the old gang, a few with Ozymandias that Dan quickly stuffs into a plastic garbage bag that he brought up with him. He makes swift work of the first box emptying most of the contents into the garbage bag, he picks up the box to move the broken husk into the trash as well but realizes there still something in it. He frowns and shakes the box. He moves the flap at the bottom out of the way, a tan well-worn leather bound journal sits at the bottom. Dan is confused, he doesn't remember ever keeping a journal, writing notes just wasn't his speed. He picks the book up and a piece of paper floats out.

Destroy this.

The note makes little sense until Dan flips it and sees the unmistakable mark of Rorschach. When did he leave this? Most likely one of the thousands of he had broken into his old house back in the city. Dan decides to grant the notes wishes and tosses the journal into the garbage bag after the rest of the trash he's thrown away that day.

He finishes the other boxes without further surprises and leaves the attic. When Laurie comes back home he lets her know she no longer has to worry about the boxes, he's taken care of them. He doesn't mention the journal he found. He tries to remove it from his mind but it continues to crawl back. Curiosity killed the preverbal cat and it's working its magic on Dan as well.

Later, that night as Laurie lays sleeping curled up next to him, he cannot stop himself. Dan goes down into the alley where he put the garbage, he rips the bag open without hesitation and finds the broken book. It is now slightly wet and some of the ink has run. His brow furrows, what did he put in the bag that would have gotten the pages wet?

He walks back into the house and sits at the dining room table. He doesn't think he can open it. Although the loss of his friend happened years ago the pain is still fresh in his mind. He pauses for only a moment contemplating his next move, he opens the journal and reads.

March 25, 1978

This city is dead, it just doesn't know it yet. It gets up every morning, puts away its' drug dealers, whores, hippies and junkies, just to put on corrupt politicians, business men doing back room deals, bankers getting away with stealing millions. When the man stealing for food can't get more than 5 feet without getting shot down, the rich and powerful steal lively hoods, homes and farms and no one bats an eye.

The city moves forward because it's too stupid to fall down. I want to take a gun and put it down, beat it until in no longer moves, push it over the edge. But I know, no matter what I do, it will still move forward, still try to claim life, still breath.

Two cops who have a reputation and not the good kind are sitting in coffee shop laughing. I hear them guffaw as the recount a story of the black hooker who showed up at the precinct last night telling of a man who kidnapped and tortured her. The cops chock it up to a stupid whore beat up by an equally worthless pimp but something about it doesn't sit right with me and I need to investigate further. I question the cops, it only takes breaking the nose of one and the knee of the other to get the information I need, easy.

Only problem is with the information I get. The hooker is from Harlem. There are a lot of issues with Harlem, the biggest, the Zods. The Negros formed their own vigilante group and much like me they still operate in certain circumstances, typically when someone finds themselves on their side of town. They act more in the way of a gang preferring to relieve tourists who accidently take a wrong turn, of their cash. They pay kickbacks to the cops from the numbers racket they also run and are pretty much left alone. Cops stay away from Hell's Kitchen and Harlem. But I need information and will get it.

The Zods took their name from the zodiac chart. I don't know if there are actually 12 of them but I've had dealings with the Pieces and the Gemini's. They epitomize cheap costumed hero. My only real concern is with the Sagittarius, I've heard rumors his bow is deathly accurate and he doesn't hesitate to use it, maiming anyone who crosses his path the wrong way. I'll have to watch myself. I briefly contemplate calling Daniel but he's retired. Sitting, growing fatter, lazier, no longer has the stomach to put away the filth in the city chooses instead to ignore them, bury head in sand hoping they will go away.

Getting to Harlem takes longer than expect or want. I encountered street after street of bedlam and mayhem. I'm getting tired of the filth and the "victims", something needs to be done, something bigger than just me. I'm finally on 102nd St. there's a house fire, seems like the 20th this year so I cut through an alley, I hear noise from behind me. I turn and 3 men have closed off the mouth of the alley. They have cheap moth eaten fur around the collars of the jackets haloing around their heads, their afros teased high around their faces, bleached a horrible tan color, attempting to make manes as a means of intimidation the results instead is asinine and it turns an already grotesque figure into something comical.

I'm perplexed as to how they expect to be taken seriously looking as ridiculous as they do.

"You look lost honky?" The tallest says. I look down and a length of chain extends from his hands.

"You need directions?" This one has a pipe. The last one doesn't get a chance for a snappy comment and I don't get the opportunity to see what he brought to the party. But they should have brought more men if they are looking to stop me. I reach my hand out and grab the flimsy metal of a garbage can top when there is a whistling sound and chainman starts screaming. The tail of an arrow sticks out of his thigh. He grabs it tries to pull, screams louder and drops to his knees.

My other two chaperons look up nervously searching the sky for the source of what interrupted them.

"Look Sag, we don't". Pipeman is cut off an arrow embeds itself through the large poof of hair around his head. His skin is not pierced but it is evident that the arrow hadn't missed its mark. The two standing grab their incapacitated friend and hobble quickly out of the alley. When they are gone I hear something drop next to me. I wait not completely positive what the archer's game is.

"What are you doing here Rorschach?" The voice is definitely female, which surprises me a little. When she steps into my sight I'm surprised again. The Sagittarius is not the man I was expecting, it she's a woman, not more than a girl. But you can never tell with _them_ can you, it's not easy to guess their age. She barely comes up to my shoulders and the bow she wields is taller than she is. Her skin is a smooth deep brown, almost the color of warm chocolate, or baby shit. She of course has the typical female costume, long thigh high boots, hot pants so short and tight as to leave nothing to the imagination. The shirt she wears has one open flowing sleeve while the other is wrapped tightly around her arm by some type of leather strap. This one has drawn an arrow which she pointed directly in my face.

"I'm looking for a woman." I explain, trying to judge if I'm in any real danger and trying to figure a plan to get away from her.

"You don't strike me the type who's into the dark meat, white bread."

"Not that kind," I tell her but have to rephrase because I am in fact looking for that kind.

"I heard a rumor that a hooker was beat-up, kept in a basement and tortured, cops didn't believe her, I was looking for the full story." She slowly lowers the bow but keeps it drawn just the same.

"Why?"

"Something about it rings true. Wanted to hear it for myself."

"Try to keep up." The arrow disappears up the billowy sleeve, the bow she slings across her chest, then, with surprising speed, she scales the fire escape on the building and disappears to the roof. I was able to keep up but I think she tries to lose me on more than one instance.

We end up on the roof of a dilapidated tenement. I just avoid a whole in the roof she fails to warn me about, disappointment ripe on her face that I didn't fall in. She opens the roof access door and she disappears into the darkness. It occurs to me she might be luring me into a trap. I am right and wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Deeper

I follow her into the broken building. The ghosts of what it was and has become cling to the walls they are radiating with rancid fried food, stale smoke, and fetid sex. Following here is harder than the roof tops, the only light is filtering through dirty windows and its poor light at that. There is drug paraphilia, crumbling walls and all sorts of garbage on the floor. Holes in the walls, ceiling and floor she avoids, so I do as well. The stairs are a different story, I don't think they will hold her weight never mind the two of us combined, but they do, barely. We pass closed doors one or two of them have dead bolts. I wonder what the hell would be in here that someone is keeping locked up. The rooms that no longer have doors have dirty blankets or curtains covering them, still useful for something. I can hear sounds and I'm disgusted at the level of people's depravity. My hands ball into fists, she'll be sorry if this is her idea of a joke.

We end at a set of double doors. The stench coming from the room is filtering through the door and almost unbearable. She opens the doors and walks through I follow expecting the worst and am not disappointed. There are about five mattresses on the floor, all five have something on them, when I look closer and realize they are people, or what used to be. There are some bodies that are on nothing more than a blanket and one unlucky whore on nothing more than a pile of blood and shit stained newspaper.

"Every woman in this room's been attacked."

"Where's the one from last night?" She points to the pile of rags on the newspaper. I walk over to the corner, reluctant to turn my back, but I'm not that way for long. The thing on the paper is dead. It has a swollen black eye and a puffed lip, which just may have been her natural state, you can never tell with them, but I don't see much more wrong with her. If she was beat up, she must have hit somewhere else other than her face. I understand most pimps won't hit their skanks in the face, figuring most men won't pick up a broken whore.

"She's dead," someone says from behind me, and I jerk around. A tall black figure is coming towards me with something in his hands. I ball my fists, widen my stance and get ready for the fight that's coming. I look over to Sagittarius if this was her plan, to get me in here and have someone try to kill me why she didn't let the lowlife's in the alley do it confounds me.

"Why is he here?" the man asks he pushes me out of the way.

"Nosey white boy."

He walks over and puts a sheet, that was in his hands, over the dead body.

"What happened to her?"

"Internal hemorrhaging, we didn't get to her in time and the cops didn't bother to take her to the hospital."

I have nothing to say back to that. The cops were assholes to everyone not just the Negros.

"You need to leave." He walks over to one of the live ones and checks bandages and applies some thick foul smelling ointment to a hole in her shoulder and covers it with a rag.

"I'm going to find out who's doing this and stop 'em."

"Why, afraid he's going to start taking Miss Ann once he's done with the sistas in Harlem?" He got up and stands over another body. "Baby doll, you know better than to bring some white boy here, especially a costume."

He looks at her, I recognize it, seen it in enough faces. You can never get away from the sex. It is in the music they play on the radio, the magazines on the newsstands, the ads on every billboard.

"Where were they found?"

"They were dumped at different places. I can show you."

"Better just tell me."

"No," she says shaking her head. She starts to walk out of the room but the man stops her.

"You let him be. Let him go out, run around and find nothin'. You stop bein' stupid." He reaches out to grab her but she skids away from him. She walks through the double doors and I follow her outside. The wind has picked up and I could smell the burning of a house fire not too far away.

"Who you wanna see first?"

"The last one, where was she found?"

"Cops picked her up near the FDR."

"That's not going to help, she could have been coming from anywhere."

"Tesha said he pushed her out the car. Sick prick."

"Where did they find you?"

She didn't answer right away just stood stiff, finally she asks, "Why do you think that?"

"You said every woman in the room, I assumed it included you." She keeps quiet but sizes me up instead of answering. She steps up to me, close enough where I don't think I'm in any danger from her bow and arrow. She's too small and pitiful to be any physical threat and I let my guard down, slightly.

She looks at my face, following the pattern with her eyes. She takes her hand and pokes my face. I punch her in reply. She stumbles back about two steps but other than that she takes the punch well.

"Don't touch me."

"I'll remember." she smiles shaking her head.

"Just show me so I can get rid of you."

"They found me in an alley on 186th street. You got a car or walk everywhere?"

"You can learn more about the city when you are in it."

"Also takes you 8 hours to get anywhere." She shrugs and starts walking uptown.

I don't need her here and the sooner she shows me where they found her the sooner I can get rid of her. I haven't had a real partner since Night Owl don't need one and don't want one.

We walk in silence, kept out of sight of most people either that or they avoid us. She keeps quiet and doesn't prattle on like most women do but I need some information and have to ask.

"Who was that man back at the house?"

"Clef." I wait for more but she says nothing.

"Is he a doctor?"

"No."

I don't have time for this baby bullshit. I grab her by the neck, pulling her off the ground and squeezing.

"Who is he and why is he at the house? I'm trying to help you people, maybe you keep that in mind?" She doesn't say anything, doesn't fight against me, doesn't scream, or claw at my hand, she just takes it looking at my face again. I drop her and she crumbles to the ground.

"He's name is Clef Jackson. He was a medic in the army but ain't no black man can get a job nowadays no matter what his trainin' is. So he does what every other black man in this neighborhood does, he sells drugs, runs numbers, does a little enforcing. When the girls need help he can usually do it so it was a gimmie that he would help now."

"Was that so hard?" I ask walking away.

We make it to 186th street and she points down an alley.

"Near the green dumpster, I wasn't good enough to be garbage."

"How long ago?"

"They found me here two nights ago."

"You go to the cops?"

"So I could get laughed at?"

I shrug and go down the alley. She doesn't follow me and I guess I understand why. I know how it feels to be thrown away. I look around the alley, it stinks and there is a rat chewing on something that looks like a cat carcass and I think that's karma and I've heard Karmas a bitch.


	3. Chapter 3

Alley

I look around the alley. I see where she was left right next to huge green metal dumpster. There are a few bloody rags and wrappers. I don't remember seeing any wounds on her so I wonder what happened to her before she ended up in the alley and what happened after the alley. There's a jagged piece of metal sticking out of the wall, I touch it and it is caked with dried blood and hair and looks recent. I will have to ask her about that as well. I see nothing else of importance in the alley and turn to leave but something catches my eye. The light glints off a shining piece of metal. I bend down its some political button. 'Vote Choate' is printed over a field of red white and blue, a piece of blue cloth is tangled up in the pin part.

Michael Choate, comes from a long line of political blowhards. This guy's posters have been all over the city and I've seen more than one person with his buttons. He's running for reelection of some office, congress I believe. He's been pushing the political clock for a long time and I've heard he's looking at something bigger than just state senate. There is talk of this win putting him in contention for a run at the white house. I typically let the politicians weave their on web of deceit but it's next to impossible to ignore this guy in the city this year. I take the button and join Sagittarius at the head of the alley.

"You want to tell me about your abduction?"

"You look hungry, I bet you're hungry. Come on. I know a place"

She runs across the street nearly getting run over in the process before I can protest. She cuts down the alley and I have to run to catch up her. When I get into the alley she's not there. I hear a noise from above me and I see her disappear over the edge of the top of the roof. Appears we are going roof surfing again.

We end several minutes later in the top of a closed diner. I recognize the smell and wonder how come they haven't shut this place down for health code violations.

"I know the chef. He sometimes lets me crash here keeps me in supply." She explains.

We go through the back door and come into the dry pantry. The place has long been closed for the night but of course I can still smell the scent food that has long since seeped into the building and stays trapped within its walls.

She points to a booth then leaves me alone. I'm not comfortable here and want to leave, but the growl in my stomach is stronger than the gnaw in my gut so I sit down and wait for her to return. She comes back with a plate piled with sandwich triangles and places it in front of me. Before I help myself I decide I need to get the full story.

"You gonna talk?"

She shrugs.

"Tell me what you remember." I pick up a sandwich and bite into it.

She sits in the counter and I'm glad she chooses not to sit at the booth. She produces a smoke and a match from that loose sleeve that seems to keep everything and strikes the match with her thumb. Soon the diner stinks with acrid smell of smoke.

"I really don't member much. I wasn't there fo dat long. I had been lookin' for a friend of mine that had gone missin'. Not much of a trail to follow. Danise was a workin' girl so she was out there every night. No tellin' who she was last wit.

"Anyway I was talking to some working girls out in Spanish Harlem. Big old car come up driver gets out and starts talking to us looking fo a couple a girls to party wit, he says. Few of us gets in the car. After that I don't member much. Woke up in a basement. There were a few of us there, all of the ones that had been missin'. I guess we were like entertainment. Sometime one would go up some time a few. They had them do different stuff sometime things they typically get paid fo, sometime they had em fight each other and stuff."

"You?"

"I was not, what did they call it, cooperative. Not used that often. Only 'member going up coupla time. It was the same guy each time, he fuck the same, like he do it good. Course you all think you got it happening, stoopid men." She snubs out the smoke.

"How'd you get out?"

"Don't member. I 'member a fight lot 'o yelling, then it go black and I woke up in that alley. Clef was wit me, but somethin'." She shrugs again.

"What do you mean?"

"Dunno. Clef was there but there was somethin' about it didn't feel right."

"You can't give me anymore?"

"I can't give you nothing I don't got. I was doped up I know that feeling, happened befoe when-"

She cut off and looks out if the front windows. "You better go."

"Why what's wrong?

"Go." She produces an arrow and loads the bow.

"What is it?"

"Jack if you don't want to get dead tonight I suggest you leave."

I get up but not particularly happy about running away from whatever is happening. I take one last look at her. She really does look young. I wonder if she is even past 16. I go back through the dry pantry, I get to the door we came in but decide to at least go back and find out why I was dismissed. I stay in the shadows out of sight and I can hear her taking in that broken English she tries to put on to throw me off but I know she's faking. I see 5 Negros around her almost surrounding her trying to be intimidating. One I recognize as one of the unlucky ones from my greeting party earlier tonight. But why they need 5 guys over one little girl makes me laugh. They are more afraid of her than she ever will be of them, even if she's outmatched which I think right now she is.

The one in long black leather coat takes the lead.

"Raymond tells me you interfered with the boys." She says nothing and climbs back up on the counter lighting another smoke. "While I think it's important we find out who did this, who is doing this, we don't need no costumed outsider interfering." He walks closer to her stepping up to the counter settling in between her legs like bazaar perverted lovers embrace. What were they all going to watch? He puts a hand on her arm and I think that was one his first in a long line of mistakes.

She grabs his hand and I can hear the crunch of bone as she crushes the hand then twists his arm up and brings her the elbow of her other arm down on his. He screams and she turns him around holding him in front of her like a shield with his arm wrapped around his neck in an awful chokehold. I'm not really sure they understand she's already gotten the best of them.

Two try to advance on her and she pulls the big man's arm around his neck tighter and he groans stopping them in their tracks.

"I'm sorry Max did you have something to say?" she says this into his ear licking close as if they are two lovers showing off in front his friends. He lets out a strangled moan that doesn't sound good. I'm impressed and wonder how someone managed to get the best of her to trap her anywhere.

"Let 'em go Sag," a voice says from the door. It's that guy Clef. Sag holds Max for a moment longer then let's him go. He crumbles to the floor coughing and spitting up.

"Your girl's days are numbered." he manages to cough out after a few minutes.

"You know Momma Grace 'ill kill you some thin' happen to her."

Sag is still sitting on the counter as if nothing happened. She looks over to the dry pantry to where I am standing in the shadows. For a moment I think she knows I'm here. Did she do this for me, to show off? Well it worked I'm impressed, tomorrow when I come back I'll make a point to talk to her, get more of her story.


End file.
